Recap: You are ANON, the RED JOKER. In our last instalment, you attempted to chase down BARDIEL, before exploring the very depths of the ARMORY - Shortly before it sank beneath the sands of the red world once more. Also, you arranged a meeting with ARGENT PROMINENCE...And now, a day later, it's time at last...

From outside, you glimpse the red-and-white checkered tablecloths, the dimmed lights, the stucco and brick walls. The music of Frank Sinatra plays from the concealed speakers, like a soft undercurrent beneath the white noise of lunch chatter - This close to the city's business district, you're not surprised to see that the place is doing a brisk trade.

The restaurant's a study in contradictions - With all the rustic stylings of a family diner outside, with authentic wood finishings and the smell of spices lingering the air.

Yet within, it's climate-controlled, spotless except for an artfully-aged photo display of staff and well-fed customers...All in black-and-white, for that 'old-timey' feel.

...And, of course, *way* above your price range. If you were coming alone, of course - Not as a guest.

A brass bell tinkles, as you push through the glass doors, into the front of the house; The Maitre'd walking over, greeting you with a polite nod. His face is hard, pale and sinewy, but not unkind - The face a man wears after a life spent in the food industry.

He goes to his heavy ledger, and heaves it open - But from the way he only looks at it once, you can tell he already knows the details.

"Ah, indeed. Right this way, Sir; Please, follow me."

He ushers you in, past the dark velvet drapes sheeting the windows; While it's an overcast afternoon outside, the city still grey and dreary from the pounding rains, La Tombala is *always* at that comfortable time between evening and true twilight...When the labors of the day are done, and there's dinner and the lazy hours ahead to look forward to.

> [X] You're having second thoughts about this meeting.

-That's right. You can't help but feel a slow-spreading trepidation, as you're led past the rows of tables; The other diners paying you no attention, engrossed in their own conversations.

You don't like having to approach him like this. If you had a choice...Well, you'd have preferred to avoid him completely. But recent events have rather forced your hand - It's hard to believe how quickly things have changed for the worse.

Your vision swims, briefly, and it's a moment before it clears. You haven't been sleeping well, these days - Not since Nara Dreamland. Last night, in particular, was a bad one; After you...

>>20833467Ahaha, I finally managed to make Joker Quest without stumbling across it. Natsumi is my choice for traumatic last event, not the least because we ought to be able to put that subplot to rest.

It's been a while - a long while - since you last visited Natsumi. Not that you had a reason to, of course; But now...You can't help but worry.

When you reached the familiar apartment, the windows were shuttered, and the lights were dark. The long buzz of the electronic bell echoed again and again, down the empty corridor - Eventually, you simply knocked, the sharp *rap* of your knuckles against the wood the only sound in the rain-soaked evening.

"Natsumi?"

No response. Not even when you called her; You heard her phone ring from somewhere within the house, again and again - An oddly forlorn sound, which stopped only when you hung up.

She never answered her handphone, either.

There was no-one at home. Either that, or she simply didn't want to see you. You waited, for an hour - Then another...But no-one came. The house was still dark and empty, when you left.

Before you, the maitre'd draws up short; You catch yourself, just as he steps aside. "Your table, Sir," he informs you - With a small nod of his head, the chair's legs drawing back with a soft *scritch*...

Mr. Fumito Ebara - Argent Prominence - is already seated, waiting without impatience; His face half-hidden, long fingers turning the pages of a leather-bound menu. His coat is draped over the back of the seat, in an oddly casual gesture - At your approach, he glances up, a smile on his gaunt features.

"Ah, Anon," he says - His voice cultured, familiar with warmth - "-You're right on time; How have you been?" He sounds like an uncle with a favorite nephew, after a long absence.

>>20833716"Not well. I've been thinking about the incident at Nara Dreamland, and the conclusions I've come to with my limited data are unsettling, even beyond the way Pazuzu's Players worked together with the Correctors. And there's the fact that one of Pazuzu's lieutenants managed to find me in this world. Cost him an arm, I'll see about leaving him without a leg to stand on next time. Any idea how he might have managed to find me?"

"-I understand," he offers, with a sympathetic nod. "...I've heard about what happened - The news has been most troubling." There's a soft sound, as he closes the menu, sets it to the side...A waiter whisks it away, and Mr. Fumito is silent, just for a moment, before he continues.

"Unfortunately, this...incident...couldn't have occurred at a worse time; I've recently committed substantial resources to a venture, and it's quickly approaching a...critical junture, shall we say." He smiles, apologetically - Though there's no real humor in it, as he lowers his voice slightly.

"What happened at Nara Dreamland - It's monstrous. An atrocity. While my influence is currently limited, I'll answer your questions to the best of my ability."

"Players working with Correctors...?" His brow furrows, slightly. "I didn't credit the rumors, not at first - It sounded too implausible to believe. From the little we've learnt about them...They're impossible to control, or direct."

"I believe - And this is just conjecture - that they weren't actively *cooperating* with the Correctors. Rather, it sounds like the culprits may have found a way to mask their presence, and simply attacked at the same time the creatures were unleashed."

Mr. Fumito's voice trails off, as a waiter returns with a loaded tray. It's not long before a steaming bowl of Zuppa De Pesce (A broth-style seafood soud full of scallops, prawn and halibut, seasoned with fresh herbs.) is set before you, aside a wicker basker of Bruschetta con Crema - the delicious smell of grilled, home-baked bread and roasted garlic cream filling the air, marinated peppers lending them a tangy bite.

> And there's the fact that one of Pazuzu's lieutenants managed to find me in this world.

"Details, I would like to know everything about Bardiel, I am planning on sticking his head on a pike, consider it a favor if you want. What are his capabilities, his personality, his goals? You make Relics, what did you give him before he turned?"

>>20834026"Hmm. What made him leave?" (later) "What can you tell me about those wings of his? His arm isn't enough to cover the cost of what he took from me. I'd be interested in hearing what you know of Rust Kaiser and Pazuzu as well."

>[X] "...He used to work for you?">[X] "...Is he another one of your 'mistakes'?"

"Briefly - About two years ago." His tone implies that perhaps even *that* was too long. "-I never met him in person; This was, of course, *before* I'd taken the necessary steps. Back then, my first priority was ensuring that Players had the ability to defend themselves from Correctors - It was naive, even foolish, but I thought a common threat would be enough..."

Mr. Fumito's voice trails off, and - Just for a moment - he looks old and worn. "...At that time, I armed anyone willing and able to help in culling their numbers. The need was simply too pressing."

> You make Relics, what did you give him before he turned?

He hasn't touched his food. His finger tap lightly against the table, lost in thought: "...I gave him wings."

> "What can you tell me about those wings of his?

There's a tightness to his words, now. "-Contrary to belief, I don't make *every* Relic. The deep past is a strange place, Anon; The things within it even stranger. The first Relics I found were the greatest ones - Perhaps I shouldn't have been *quite* so free with them. If I'd known then what I know now..."

"We needed a scout, someone who could see attacks before they came - He volunteered. When I found them - Within a sealed chamber - I thought they were exactly what we needed."

Ebara's hands move, as if tracing out a pattern against the table: "They were *splendid*. Concentrated nanomaterial colonies, capable of assuming multiple shapes and material compositions - So densely packed, any harm could be rejuvenated in mere moments. And in *flight*...They used countless gravimetric repulsors for the most minute corrections - By *repelling* against any object, he could reach supersonic flight in moments.

His eyes flicker, his lips setting in a thin line. "-By now, he must have mastered every aspect of their use; I've never known a Player that could fly as far, as *fast* as Bardiel could."

"-But when I knew him, he lived with the constant fear that they would betray him. He has to gauge the wind and the weather by the second, you see? He has to step out over space, and *believe* he can fly."

"Every time he flies, the fear swells inside him just a little more - He needs it, but he's terrified of them. It takes incredible concentration to utilize them fully; If you can disrupt that, make him *doubt* himself..."

And quite suddenly, the animation in his voice dies away. "-Listen to me," he murmurs, almost to himself. "...I may have said too much."

> "Hmm. What made him leave?"

"-He didn't. Until last week, I thought he was dead." At last, Mr. Fumito takes a bite from the bread; He chews, slowly, dabbing at his mouth with his napkin. "We were attacked from all sides, by a horde of Correctors - Like locusts, a storm that turned the red sky black. He said that he was going to draw them away...And he did. There were hundreds of them after him, swarming over him..."

"Only in passing. Some of my Players have reported a rusting iron knight, attacking Correctors and Players alike...I've ordered them to give him a wide berth. To think he'd be a party to this..."

> [X] "I'm more interested in Pazuzu."

"Ah." It's a soft sound, like an exhalation of breath. "-The Black Cardinal's successor, or so I've heard...It's certainly what he wants to be, anyway." Mr. Fumito brushes the breadcrumbs away - His soup left untouched, threads of steam coiling from the surface.

"We know surprisingly little about him; I think he must be *very* good at hiding his tracks. The first time I heard about him was around six months ago; Some Players had found a Relic they couldn't understand, and they wanted to turn it over to me."

"...By the time I'd arrived, it was gone. The place was utterly devastated - The survivor mentioned that the attacker was dressed like a harlequin, with an eye like nothing else on earth."

He turns his head, towards you - A curious note to his voice. "...You mentioned that you lost something - or *someone* - didn't you? All I've heard are scattered reports...They say you fought him to a standstill. What happened between the two of you?"

The Nihl sphere is suddenly very, very heavy in your pocket - Enough to make you uncomfortable, beneath that pale blue gaze.

[ ] Free.

YOU HAVE CONTROL.

(Gentlemen, I'm very sorry for the long delay between posts. It seems big chunks of text are inevitable, when it comes to exposition.)

>>20834531"Well I can say first hand that Pazuzu is extremely dangerous, he knows magic and he cheats. Not in that he doesn't fight fair, but he breaks all of the unwritten rules that we are forced to follow.

As for what happened, he and Bardiel took away something very dear to me. I would have them both die screaming in agony for this.

I've already started on Bardiel, some might say he's a fried chicken but I'm not done with him quite yet."

>>20834531>>20834531The same thing that happens almost every time two players meet. We tried to kill each other. He was able to call other players to help him. That was the primary problem, I outgunned him by far but he kept calling in others. First a player called Locke, who I killed. Then Rust Kaiser, who was able to disrupt what should have been the prelude to a killshot. An... ally of mine, Hecate, she came to pull me out. Bardiel showed during our escape and killed her.

We're not breathing a word about the Nihl Sphere. Should Hecate have actually survived it's our only chance of getting to her. More importantly, Pazuzu will come for whoever has it. Best he find us waiting for him.

"A girl I knew. Another Player, as it turns out. We were at the park together, then the attack started and then we were in the Red World. I started fighting Players, then Pazuzu showed up, and we fought to a standstill. Kaiser got in the way, and she interfered to help me escape. We almost made it out but Bardiel... lived up to his name. Didn't see it coming."

"Argent, there's something bigger going on here. I can only see the edges of it, and I think you can help me fill in the pieces. Pazuzu styles himself the Black Cardinal's successor, the Thief wants Fatal Abyss, I'm the Red Joker, you're you and the Chalice Queen probably has a successor somewhere. And... I've met the new Black Joker, I think. Why is this generation of Players finding your battle? What happened at the end of the last game?"

>>20834640I'd rather not mention the name Hecate, if he brings it up we might be willing to allude to it, but he ought to know who she is and if he doesn't already know then bringing it up tells him too much.

"I see," Mr. Fumito murmurs - You can almost hear the gears in his mind turning, as he puts the pieces together. He's silent, for a long time - Wordless, even when the next course arrives.

There's crisp Calmari Fritti, served with lemon wedges and rich dipping sauces as an appetizer - With a plate of lamb ravioli (House-made in procini pasta with balsamic butter sauce, artichoke hearts, beech mushrooms and goat cheese) set in front of you, and salmon diabolo for him.

As the waiter retreats, Ebara steeples his fingers before him, and speaks at last.

He sees something in your expression, and laughs - A curt, short bark of laughter that sounds almost pained. "-It's true, but not the way you think. I can only remember the thinnest splinters, the faintest impressions; My memory's full of holes."

"I was never really active, as a Player. I spent most of my days plumbing the depths of the red world, once I could defend myself; I'd wearied of the endless, pointless fighting."

>>20834788I would call shenanigans, except we apparently live in a world where a tenth of the population fights an unending battle royale using ooparts in an alternate reality. I suppose we ought to count ourselves lucky Argent remembers his own name.

Mr. Fumito smiles, but he can't hide the bitterness in his voice. "...Maybe that's why I survived. No-one knew where to find me, you see? The cataclysmic events passed entirely outside my notice. I was lost in my own little world..."

It's what he doesn't say that's telling.

> I could have done something...

"-I remember a burning door; Opening up beyond the boundary around the macro-world. A place beyond sight - Then a white light..."

"I can't tell you where I've been, because I don't know, either. There was a floor like melted mirror, pneumna that suggested growth, emergence, change..."

His voice trails off, into memory. Or perhaps he's just run out of words.

Then, more softly:

"...I remember the Black Cardinal dying. He was a thing of rags and tatters - He was killing Phantom Edge, but he was dying *first*. Then the Red Joker was in the way - I remember him pulling at me, telling me to run..."

"I didn't want to go. The Chalice Queen did *something*, and there was a fracturing - A breaking..."

The lights have dimmed, even more. Somewhere, the warm light of guttering candles begin to fill the dining room. Mr. Fumito exhales, softly: "...And then I woke up, and I was myself again. Alone."

"-I don't know what happened to the others. But finally - Finally - I decided it was time to stop waiting; To do *something*, for the common good." His smile is faintly wistful, now - "I wish I could tell you more."

A slight movement draws your attention - You see that he's made a mark on the tablecloth, an odd scribble...Like a primitive rendition of your symbol.

"...Later, I heard that the Red Joker had died, and that someone else had taken his place." He rests his chin on a clenched fist. "-Then there was Thief, and I began to wonder...I believe that we each had a role to play, in some great process: That something went *wrong*, somehow, and I was cast away. Discarded, like so much flotsam, left to drift forever."

"-In the end, I decided to do what I could, *when* I could. The rest of it...Well, I'd suppose I'd leave it to others."

[ ] "...But how about you? What are *you* waiting for?"[ ] "...But can you help me?"[ ] "...Don't you want to, well, win?"[ ] Free.

>>20834828Dammit Anon, how did you know that hero/villain pairings are my fetish? Assuming, of course, that Black Joker in this incarnation? Who knows about the last one is the villain. I'm putting my money on an outside foe.

>>20834855If you've truly been discarded doesn't that mean you're the only one free? From the sounds of it you have the chance to be both inside the game and have an outside perspective thanks to what little you remember. Will you be willing to work with me avert another catastrophe?

>>20834855"I don't think so. Players fight one another until only a few are left. You chose a different path. Maybe that's why you survived. Humans survive because a few of us innovate. Maybe if you survive long enough there will be more Players like you and fewer that need to fight and kill."

"Another question: The Correctors. Someone I talked to before suggested that something changed about six years ago. Were the Correctors it, or were they always there?"

> [X] I don't suppose you recall if Phantom edge's sword was intact at the end?

Ebara's eyes narrow, in thought - He pushes his fingers through his thinning hair, visibly searching through his memories. You can see - a fleeting glimpse - that there are deep, gouging scars in his scalp...Like vertical lines, as if something has been driven into his skull.

"-It was broken, I think...?" He begins, then nods. "He'd driven the broken blade through the Black Cardinal...But the Cardinal had his *hands* on him. They were these...bony things, and they were burning - He was clawing at Phantom Edge's face, trying to gouge at his eyes. Then he was - *both* of them were - glowing too bright to see..."

He smiles, slightly - A faint grin, that only accentuates his stark features. "...That's what I'm waiting for, in truth." Mr. Fumito's eyes are a shade brighter, now - Real animation entering his voice. "If I find him - *when* I find him - maybe I'll remember all that I've lost...And find the 'meaning' that eluded me all those years ago."

He chuckles, rather self-consciously; "...It's just a conceit of mine, really. Perhaps I'm expecting too much."

> "So the Red Joker saved you, he really was a hero. He died for you and the funny thing is that he would have done the same for anyone."

"I know he would have," he agrees. "...That's the kind of man he was." There's the soft chime of his wineglass, as Mr. Fumito looks into its depths - A thousand miles away.

"Did you know? Of all the Players I've ever met - He's the only one who ever treated me better than he had to."

> "What are you actually hoping to happen in this game? I somehow doubt you don't have grand plans."

"-And now we come to the heart of things." He makes a little gesture - A wave, one that encompasses the room and the city beyond. "I simply want to keep the status quo; The city won't survive another disaster. It's damage control - By hunting Correctors, my Players limit the fallout. Maybe, if enough of us work together..."

And his voice grows soft, again. "...We can finally stop killing each other."

He shakes his head, as if to dispel the melancholy mood that's descended. "-That's why there's only so much I can do for you, Anon. Stopping Correctors is the only thing they can agree on: *Asking* my Players to kill for me would be-"

"...it would be unconscionable."

Mr. Fumito is silent, his words hanging in the air. At length, he says:

"-I've forbidden my Players from engaging others, except in self-defense; I'll keep you informed about anything they uncover, all the same. As for what *immediate* help I can give..."

"Most of your Relics already surpass the ones I can create - But I can improve the ones you have. It'd take time, though...During which I'll have to work directly on them."

>>20835069>>20835087Hot damn, relic upgrade service. All we have to do is agree to let Argent Prominence hold them for us until he's satisfied. Which means hard time fights without them and someone I'm more than a little suspicious of has the force multipliers. I'm still willing to bite. I say hand over both the cloak and the Scrander; I doubt he'll survive long enough to do a second order, so let's take advantage while we can.

[/metagame]

What does he mean by meaning eluding us? Is that a reference to the Sphere? That stays with us, it's Pazuzu bait.

Oh wait, while he's here let's ask about The Thief and Natsumi. Let's tell the Thief that we're interested in a Black Cardinal killing alliance. And Natsumi... yes, I'm obsessed.

>>20835087Right, we're giving him the Nihl Sphere over our dead body. There is no way in hell that I trust him with that.

"I will take your offer into serious consideration. Being without my relics is of great risk to me, partially because trust is a rare commodity here, but mainly because I have come to rely on them and finding myself without them at a pivotal moment would mean my death.

Tell me, do you fight anymore? When was the last time blades whizzed past mere inches from your neck? That your feet crunched upon destroyed vistas as you had to instantly decide whether to retreat or charge? When was the last time that your life became a road with two forks, one where you killed the man in front of you and one where he slid his blade into your heart?"

Could we give him our blue reactor? If so I vote that and the Scrander for upgrades keep our cloak since we desperately need the protection at all times.

Anyone else thinking that we might take a small step to being more heroic if only to honour the previous Joker? I just mean offering people a chance and such if they aren't our targets. Protecting those that are aligned against the Cardinal etc.

He nods, agreeably. "-No matter, than. You know how to reach me, if you reconsider." Mr. Fumito adjusts his tie, straightening it slightly; "Again, it's really that a recent experiment of mine is consuming an inordinate amount of time and effort...Once it's concluded, I'll be able to actively assist you."

He sounds apologetic, for what it's worth.

> Tell me, do you fight anymore?

"Not unless I have to." Ebara makes an odd sound - Somewhere between a laugh and a cough. "...Not against a Player, at least." He tilts his head to the side; "-I have to confess, the workings of your armor fascinates me. You're *similar* to him, but not alike - It's almost as if..."

He catches himself. "Well, be that as it may...One of these days, if you're willing, I could provide you with a comprehensive upgrades - The same way I've augmented the Players I can trust. It's the least I could do."

"For now, though..." Mr. Fumito extends his hand, towards you - As if expecting a handshake, that slight smile lingering on his face. "-I'd be a poor host if I came empty-handed. If you'd care to accompany me?"

>>20835179They all noticed. Hell, I noticed and I don't even follow this quest and have only a passing knowledge of Rider. The title gave it away. They were just too polite to point it out before this.

>>20835193Hang on OP, I said that we ought to let him upgrade both the Tempest Scrander and the Assault Shroud. I just wanted to hold back on the Sphere. Anyway, let's see what the mad scientist has for us.

>>20835201The line about the Joker's Memory should have been the cue for me. My friends love Double; I must've seen at least half the series.

If >>20835213is telling the truth, I might as well set myself on fire here and now.

Personally, I wouldn't let him hold onto our Relics to upgrade them. Every fight without them is going to be really ugly, especially considering what kind of hornet's nest we managed to take a stick to.

"Where indeed..." He echoes - With a casual shrug, as his hand clasps yours...

-The world shifts, as the orange light of the restaurant gives way to crimson. Beneath your feet, the ground *ripples* - rising in liquid peaks, like shifting flowstone. Familiar sensations, now - The transition from one world to the next.

But you've never seen what *happens* when someone transforms; There are no mirrors in the red world, after all, and you've never had the chance to see what happens to another Player...Not even Hecate.

You see winding lines of...Pixels? Flesh?...uncoil from Mr. Fumito's arm - It draws away, faster and faster, like fabric being unravelled, stripping away the very substance of his being...As if his skin, his clothes, all of it, is just a fleshly mask drawn over flawless and gleaming silver. It's faintly nauseating...Even more when you consider that it must have happened to you EVERY TIME.

Argent Prominence...He's a vision in polished silver, as poised and as perfect as a Greek statue - Broad-shouldered and tall, the sculpted muscles of his arms and chest half-hidden beneath black gauntlets, golden fox-head symbols marked on his shoulders and limbs.

It's as if he's a man *of* silver, not made *from* silver - Flesh, instead of armor.

>>20835287Actually, I think no one else voted one way or another. Someone suggested the (integrated) Cobalt Booster and another asked a question about the battles and came out against handing over the sphere.

Where the restaurant was...There's a raised structure of pitted iron, in its rough shape - Though the bare girders merely form a skeletal framework, open to the eerie red light of the skies above. It's the same place...But as if a thousand years have abruptly elapsed, leaving only a bombed-out ruin.

"Dis...It's been a long time," Argent Prominence remarks - His voice fluting, oddly melodious, wavering back into coherence. You notice that his feet don't quite touch the ground; He hovers, without effort, every motion commmunicating tremendous but restrained force.

He makes a gesture, and it's as a veil is drawn away - Driven *right* into the ground, like a impaling spike, is...

-Is a shield. It's long, almost kite-shaped; Red, with silver highlights, bearing no crest. The very end of it is driven into the ground, so deeply that molten lava wells out around the wound. Argent Prominence steps aside, waving you towards it.

"I've made a study of your previous fights - Secondhand accounts, but no less useful. It's come to my attention that you could use a good weapon...But I don't believe a sword would suit you."

>>20835328A shield? Certainly an interesting choice, and we could stand a bit of damage resistance. Except... he called it a weapon, did he? Most interesting. Let's take a look. Investigate it from all angles, attempt to pick it up.

Driven into the ground, it takes you a moment to circle around it - To find the magnetic clasps meant to hold it in place. When you lay your hand upon it, tesselating polygons fan out across the surface, like ripples on the surface of a placid pond; You feel the weight tugging at your arm, for an instant-

...Before it comes free.

It comes free so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that it nearly staggers you - So perfectly balanced, that it seems to want to swing itself. The shield secures itself against your left arm; The silver trim bright against red endosteel, flickering light playing against the black boss where an emblem should be...

-Before the mark of the Red Joker sketches itself into place, with a flare of emberous blue light.

> CONVERSION COMPLETE> 'ADJUDICATOR' OBTAINED> UPDATING DATABASE...

...But then you hear a low *thrum* of rising power, where your left-arm Vulcans should be - And the edges of the shield flare to furious life. Beam emitters line the length of it...Igniting into phase blades, shimmering with humming green light. They expand beyond the shield's cover area, like an axe's cleaving head...Effectively, the Adjucator is *both* shield and sword - A mighty double-edged blade that makes the air *scream* as you give it a practice swing.

It shrills in your grasp, weaving a green corona of power in the air - bleeding light with each swipe. When you squeeze the trigger grip, you feel a solid *kick* - A powerful pneumatic spike punching forth from the very tip of the shield, before it ratchets back into place; A pile driver, racking back with the forceful *cha-click* of a slide.

"-How is it?" Argent Prominence asks - Something like pride seeping into his voice, his arms folded over his chest...An attitude he probably takes to all forms of weapon testing, you realize.

"I've seen many Players use their swords as shields...But you, Red Joker, will be the *very* first one to have a shield as your sword." He chuckles, then belying his serious words - "...Just my conceit, you understand."

The ADJUDICATOR boosts your defense - Effectively increasing your HP by 30%. In addition, by drawing power from your left-arm Vulcans, it can be wielded as a melee weapon - With a pair of energized blades lining each side, and a Pile Bunker weapon that can be triggered at the tip.

It can be further enhanced with the Cobalt Booster for a fearsome cutting edge: However, while the shield's blades and energy field are activated, your left-arm Vulcans cannot be used.

I think with this, if we play it carefully we can do without one of our Relics for now, I don't think giving him both at the same time will make it take a shorter period of time. I say we can manage without our awesome coat for a bit.

"-I don't like to boast, but...It *is* what I would prefer to be known for." There's pride in his voice, but he also sounds faintly said. "I've enjoyed making things, regardless of their purpose - Creation, rather than destruction."

"Perhaps I'll work on that next." Argent Prominence chuckles, faintly - His voice echoing oddly, seemingly coming from different directions at once. "I've found that Relics like these are simpler, however: Something like *that* would be infinitely more complex...And, I'm afraid, not easily portable."

The gleaming man nods, thoughtfully: As lifelike as his face appears, it's still just a helmet - His mouth never moves when he speaks, silver features frozen forever in the same placid expression.

"-I see the utility in it, though; Maybe it *is* time to turn my hand to Relics like those."

> Let's hand him the Shroud and Scrander while we can. This is a limited time plot related offer.

It's an odd sensation, voluntarily removing your Relics - The Shroud has been with you for a long time, the Scrander mere days...But both of them are *connected* to you, every bit as much a part of you as your Vulcans or the Cobalt Booster.

There's a warping shimmer, as they detach; The Assault Shroud losing all color and shape, just a swatch of miscolored fabric once more - Always changing in hue, as it adjusts to the flickering light. The Tempest Scrander uncouples from your back with a grinding *hiss* - Fitful sparks flicker across it for long moments, as it crosses the distance to Argent Prominence's grasp.

Notably, he doesn't equip them - They simply vanish, once they're in his possession, nowhere to be seen as they're stowed away.

He straightens, slightly - Drawing himself to his full height, as he lets himself float freely in the air. "-Now, then: Shall we return? While I'd understand if you prefer to linger, it makes for less than sterling conversation."

You can hear the smile in his voice, as he extends his hand to you, again; Other than the gleaming silver of the limb, the gesture is a familiar one. "...Besides, it'd be a shame to miss our lunch."

>>20835551Have you spoken to Chrome Cypher since the events at Nara Dreamland? I was surprised to find out a player was someone close to me, and the fact that I can't get a hold of them lately is disturbing.

> "Where is this place? You've made it rather obvious that it's important to you, but what happened here?"

"Oh, this?" Argent turns to look, a touch of nostaglia in his voice. "-This stage...Dis, the iron city...It's the very first place where I realized what I *could* do - That could I build, instead of merely destroy."

His ruby lens flicker with light. "It's been centuries, from the looks of it, and my skill was crude, then - unrefined. But right now? You're standing in the first house I built. For it to be still standing, even now...That's truly something."

> "Have you spoken to Chrome Cypher since the events at Nara Dreamland? I was surprised to find out a player was someone close to me, and the fact that I can't get a hold of them lately is disturbing."

He sighs, softly. "-Once, since then, and only to make a report. Cypher is...very distressed, I fear." Argent Prominence tilts his head to the side, to regard you - "...For now, I'd prefer to respect Cypher's privacy; I'll neither confirm nor deny Chrome's identity."

For a moment, he seems like he's about to say more - Then apparently decides against is. Once more, the world slips sideways...

...And you're back. It's a smoother transition than usual; At least, it's one that doesn't unfold in screams and the bitter afterburn of combat. Frank Sinatra's dulcet tones still fill the air, muffling the clatter of cutlery and the clink of glasses.

Unnoticed, a waiter whisks away the empty breadbasket - Replacing it with a plate of Pork Confit, glazed with rich, sweet-smelling gracy and mushrooms. Argent Prominence - No, just Mr. Fumito, now - is gazing out of the window, rather pensively.

"I don't know. A week ago, maybe I would have said yes with a certain caveat.

Now, I really don't think so. There's people that need to die, people who can only pay for what they have done with blood. Monsters of a far greater sort than any Corrector. Maybe once their heads are on pikes I'd be willing to quit."

>>20835626Benefits? I never really knew there were any, one day I joined this and then I find out I am fighting for my life.

I never really considered it but I think it would be nice not to be on guard all the time, I wouldn't say I would give up the chance to ever have done this if I knew what was to come because I feel it was the right decision.

It would be nice if we could end the fighting or at least have a way for people to opt out of it when they no longer wish to fight

"-Oh, I thought you might have made the inference, by now." Ebara takes a slow sip from his glass. "You've noticed what happens when a Player - when a Corrector - is defeated; There's a transfer of, of...the loser's vitality, his quintessence. His essence, if you like."

Another slow, thoughtful sip. "It seems to make the victor more...*significant*, somehow. As if there's a force, a *providence*, assisting his endevours." He looks over at you, over the rim of the glass; "-It takes many forms, I suppose. My investments have flourished - For the longest time, I could do no wrong. It may merely be a theory, but I don't believe it's mere coincidence..."

His voice trails off. "-Like this place," Mr. Fumito continues, at length. "When I built my iron house...It appeared almost overnight. Six year - Six *years* - and it's still flourishing, against all odds. If the same principle holds true - Social engineering, on a massive scale, may be possible."

"If - *If* the world could be coded into a vast string of equations, and the correct answer approached...An answer may be returned in seconds, that could rewrite reality - Making it an objective truth."

>>20835799I found what the problem was. The word he used for automobile was followed by the word he used for the motor of said automobile. The two letters followed by the synonym of motor trips the referral links.

I figured we'd have a bit longer before something horrible happened to Argent. Somebody went to great length to fuck with him, a bomb and then driving a car through the window. We need to get hold of Ebara and drag him away ASAP, the guy has our cool stuff.

>>20835872He swallows. "It'd be nearly impossible, of course; Too many variables. All the myriad possibilities our actions could set in motion. But I believe it *could* be done - The best of all possible worlds, in the thinnest splinter of time..."

The room seems...brighter, somehow. The warm light flickers, pulsing like a box of flesh - Red and dark, pumping with movement. Outside, you hear a car's (motor) grumbling as it drives past, growing louder and louder by the moment.

And everything goes outwards, all at once: In less time than it takes your heart to make the next beat, the window peels away in a blizzard of flying glass, and the drapes of either side shred - You leave the ground in the arms of the shockwave, as the table flips over and Fumito Ebara's blood gets in your eyes.

Then you start to fly, too, as the car crashes through La Tombala's facade - As high, piercing screams begin to echo in your ears. It seems to happen in slow motion, as life and death converges; As you it the ground, crossing it rolling and tumbling on your back...

-And suddenly, everything's quiet. Your ears are ringing - You feel no pain, though little shards of glass fleck your shoulders - The table's been upended, the smell of exhaust and motor oil and fumes hanging thick and heavy in the air...

>>20835897Son of a bitch, I think he lost a fight right under our nose. It can happen in an instant like that. Like when we fought Death Caliber, the entire match happened in the span of time it took Asuna to feed us a spoonful of ice cream.

Transform. Try and catch the player before he escapes. Shouldn't take long to find out if I'm right we'll get that "whoever vs. RED JOKER on our hud pretty much right away if I am. Have to be fast cause if I am right then that player probably has our Relics and he'll probably get away if we delay.